Love Poems About Grandmother or Grandmother Love Poems

Grandmother love poems and/or love poems about Grandmother. Read, share, and enjoy these Grandmother love poems! Also, try our sister website's powerful search engine for poems.

Poem Details | by Poet Destroyer A |
Categories: beautiful, care, death, grandchild, granddaughter, grandfather, grandmother, growing up, i love you, peace, sad, voice,

GRANDPA

*GRANDMA WAITS IN THE GARDEN*

Hi, grandpa, it's me again!
Your dentures sit in an open glass above the nightstand
Remember the tears grandma sang before she passed?
The way she looked into your eyes, 
Moments before she said her goodbyes
Grandpa, I found a note from grandma, 
She waits for you.

Hi grandpa, it’s me again!
The rocking chair is old and dusty
Remember the way grandma sat me on her lap?
Read many stories before I took a nap
How she enjoyed stroking my hair with her hands
I miss the way she rocked me to sleep every night 

Hello, grandpa!
I stored your hearing aid away
Remember that special musical box in grandma's drawer? 
I opened it last night, to watch the ballerina soar
I wish you could hear the tiny chimes grandma loved
I hope you don’t mind, I’m keeping grandma's favorite scarf

Hello, Grandpa!
I'm caressing grandma’s picture frame
Remember the way she looked in the yellow pretty sundress?
Grandpa, I miss the things grandmother did for you
Like the walking cane, she handcrafted before she left

Hello, grandpa, it's me again! 
Here I sit holding your hand
I have no more tears
Soon you will see her again
She will no longer be alone
Say hi to her, give her a kiss
Tell her I miss her so much
Bye, grandpa

~*~


Poem Details | by Kristin Reynolds |
Categories: dedication, family, life, love, motherwoman, grandmother, strength,

The Woman

See the woman.

See the face behind its age.
See the beauty of her form.
See the way her way becomes her.
See past her once taught skin, as it was 
when it enflamed many a man.

See the way she holds her head;
the tilt of her neck, the ease
of her being.
See the strength that binds her jaw,
unrelenting in its flex.

See her hurt displayed, as shadows
fall like night upon the earth,
eager for rest and resolution -
retribution,
for the one she could not save.

See her darknessSee it very well.
See it shatter like glass, glinting,
when she giggles like a girl.
See her shine.
As the shades of dark days rise,

See the years that grace her eyes,
like rays of her own sun
exponentially shining forth.
See forgiveness in her patient hands
as they weave memories with a touch.

See the breadth of her breasts,
unapologetic,
for they have quenched her children’s hunger,
soothed their frantic cries,
and became the safe haven for her beloved.

See her empty, scarred abdomen –
round and perfect in its imperfections,
once holding the essence of all things;
carrying creation within –
see the divine home of God.

See the innocent baby,
the impetuous youth,
the voluptuous woman,
the devoted wife,
the selfless mother.

See the wisdom of the grandmother –
the epitome of every moment lived
for someone else, and the realization 
of the circle.
Hear the acceptance in her sigh.
See the gifts she has given –

see the woman!
See the goddess!
The beginning and the end!
See the infinite that bares the name,
Woman!

See her for all that she is and isn’t.
Smell her scent and know you are home.
Taste the strength of her words on your tongue.
Hear her experiences like your own.
To touch her soul is to touch perpetuity!

See her face in your mirror.

See the tears that fall proudly
upon the woman you’ve become,
and hope yet to become
                          in time;

when you have lived through all that has been 
set before you –
tasted each woman’s tears as if they were your own.
When you enter that perfect union,
timeless ancestry;
when you become,
when you come
full circle;

you will see yourself in all things, 
and your journey, will see you back

home.



*Reposted for Chris's Get Your Rebel On, Contest! This was written with my Beautiful 
Grandmother in mindShe saved my life in more ways than onelove you, GranThis one's 
for you(and every woman, and woman lover, here)


Poem Details | by Connie Marcum Wong |
Categories: 2nd grade, books, boy, grandchild, grandmother, longing, love,

Brody

Brody

I bought two new books for you today my sweet boy.
The Wizard of Oz and the Jungle book should bring joy.

I'm very proud of how wonderfully you read.
As an English scholar, I know you will succeed.

I see your picture in the morning when I rise
As I observe your dark hair and sparkling brown eyes

The thought and sight of you really makes me smile,
Although, when I saw you last, it's been quite a while.

I miss watching you laugh and play riding your bike.
I love photos sent of you and Dad on that hike.

You love to have fun in the sun I know, I know...
You race and ride that ATV just like a pro.

Your mommy sends me sweet pictures which makes my day
I would love to find a letter from you today.

You look so dashing in your boy scout livery
With badges bravely sought and won with chivalry.

Your Kung fu lessons have trained mind and body well
I'm proud of you my dear grandson and I can tell

The kind of compassionate soul you will one day be.
I pray to God you will be blessed eternally.

Sometimes tears fall because you live so far away
I long for your kisses and hugs most everyday.

Please don't ever forget how much your Gram loves you.
You have my heart, and with your smile I can't feel blue.

4-9-18
© Connie Marcum Wong

-Poem of the day April 11, 2018~

5th place in Emile Pinet's Non-Romantic Love Contest


Poem Details | by Timothy Hicks |
Categories: adventure, crazy, cute love, fun, garden, grandchild, grandmother,

The Apple Doesn't Fall Far From the Tree

You can see him now, dirty as a horse
that slipped in the mud, planting petunias
with that infamous shamrock thumb

(Irish from his Pop      Appendage from his Mum)

stopping every now - and again -
to breathe deep that fragrance
rich with pheromone nostalgia
just like Grammy Georgina used too do

the apple doesn't fall far from the tree

I can still see her now, in her glory days,
with lovely lemon locks soaking up the summer sun,
rooted in that old-fashioned train of mind:
You don't stop your work until it's done!

(but a walking contradiction, just like her grandson,
..rose to her nose like ruby rebellion)

the tree doesn't grow solely from the ground

Water's an important player too,
especially from grandma's showering can

(laughing tears the shade of crystalline blue)

Course you can't forget those lifetime lessons either,
from dear ole Georgie, speaking with a sunny kind of seriousness,
about the importance of patience,
the fruitfulness of labor,
plucking up the surviving winters' courageous cucumbers,
blushing beets

the ground isn't just a place for our feet

Cause with her and I, we incinerate the stereotype:
young blood reflecting on infinity,
old knees dancing like she's got chipper chipmunks
for toes     giggles in the background like a photobomb
to the expected chapel silence

(it's not all peaches and cream though,
sometimes we get violent)

Orange slush, flying miles behind us,
at times getting grazed in the face
by nature's food fight

our feet between the squish squish of the crab apple

We were two peas, if you please, in a curious pod,
like a whimsical joke from a laughing God:
Me, the champion of her scallions,
the guardian of her garden,
leaving all sensibility befuddled
with an, "I beg your pardon?"

I wonder if she knew then the gravity of the situation,
watching mama scream bloody murder,
as I came into this world..

..was she scratching her head, lips curled, in questioning amazement,
just like Newton must have been, when developing his theory?
What d'you suppose they both were thinking?

The apple doesn't fall far from the tree..



Written March 27, 2016
For the Cliche Contest Hosted by Silent One


Poem Details | by Dear Heart |
Categories: granddaughter, grandmother, love,

Would You Still Love Me- Grandma

The nursing home called me early in the morning to come
as snow clouds sailed across the sky
and my heart swelled with a sea of tears
to see you lay still like a statue
my beloved grandma turned to stone
and I, a puddle of weeping and lost in my grief
grandma, I am not being strong and wondering
would you still love me ?

or tell me to stand up straight
I loved you so much and your sweet serenity
all those beautiful scars of your life
your delight in a cup of tea
and a good cookie
your gift of storytelling that you passed to me
I want to share everything at your funeral, but wonder if I do
would you still love me ?

if I shared our private conversations 
that we whispered in hushed voices since my childhood
and how when I was hurting you were my shelter
you were my placid lake where I felt safe
my tranquility-  the reason my words flow like a rippling stream
well, I spoke in the church of you and me
my words stilled the crowd to tears, but I still wondered
would you still love me ?

 love me for sharing our relationship
our great respect, bond and deep love
I was quiet as they lowered your coffin into the ground
the cemetery was full of bird twitters
but seemed soundless and peaceful
I will not say goodbye grandma for one day
my time will cease and when that day comes, I wonder
would you still love me ?


___________________________
December 5, 2018


Poetry/Free Verse/Would You Still Love Me - Grandma
Copyright Protected, ID 18-1092-174-01
All Rights Reserved Written under Pseudonym.


Submitted to the contest, Would You Still Love Me ?
sponsor, Edward Ibeh

Second Place


Poem Details | by Connie Marcum Wong |
Categories: death, granddaughter, grandmother, love, poetry,

Grammy's Girl

I see her pretty little face
With a sweet smile as bright as gold.
I think about the days ahead.
It saddens me, I'm growing old.

I love that precious little girl
With all that dwells inside of me.
One day I know we'll have to part.
I beg of Time, so fleetingly,

To warp somehow and backward go,
So I could share more of her life.
She says "Grammy, never leave me".
That I must die fills her with strife.

She says"I want to go with you".
I tell her of the joys instead,
How one day she'll meet a man,
He'll love her so, and they will wed.

But Grammy's love is all she knows,
So I will leave her parts of me,
In photographs and work I do,
In love notes from my poetry.

April,13, 2016
Happiness of Life Contest
Sponsor Nayda Ivette Negron
First Place


Poem Details | by Jan Pearce |
Categories: beauty, childhood, farewell, granddaughter, grandmother, love, youth,

A Missive to My Granddaughters

“A Missive To My Granddaughters”


My dearest girls,

How can I begin to tell you 
how much your smile warms my heart,
or the enrichment that penetrates my soul
when I feel your arms embrace me?

With you, I am a girl again reliving my own youth
When you share each new life experience with me.
Once again, my own fervor for life springs forth, 
As I listen to the enthusiasm that emanates from your cheerful chatter.

Your joy rejuvenates me.
Your smile pierces my heart and finds its way
To a special place reserved only for you.
Your zest for life gives me hope again for a better world,
And I thrive on your courage that abounds with each day that passes.

Please know…
That I have saved countless wishes for you alone -
A heart that is forgiving and true,
A mind that is forever open and exploring,
And the courage to face and overcome any obstacle.

I wish you a taste for beauty in whatever presents itself,
A flair of your own like no one else has ever experienced,
An infinite appreciation for all of Nature’s bounty,
And a magnanimous spirit for others less fortunate.

Please know that when I am gone, 
I will be with you always in spirit.
Whether it is the sweetness of a Spring rain,
In the coo of a morning dove,
Or the scent of a summer rose,
You will be reminded,
And you will know
That I am there
With you
Watching
Waiting
Until we are together..…again.


Poem Details | by James Nichols |
Categories: daughter, family, grandmother, life, love, mom, mother, mother daughter, day, day,

Silently She Weeps

Every day she comes to visit her,
lifts the spoon to her thin lips.
Quietly she sleeps, silently she weeps.
Life arrested in its waning grip.

Every day she comes with hope
that something in her changes.
Silently she weeps, quietly she sleeps
The memories time rearranges.

Every day she comes and wonders,
will she wake today and speak?
Quietly she sleeps, silently she weeps
An imprisoned mind in body weak.

Every day she comes and touches
the woman like no other.
Silently she weeps, quietly she sleeps.
Maternal daughter, loving mother.

1/1/2013


Poem Details | by Dear Heart |
Categories: grandmother, love,

For Grandma

 
You died Grandma and my heart was broken, At your funeral I stood there trembling; And in the name of love words were spoken, I needed to speak words without weeping. Me, standing up front holding my papers, There was a soft breeze caressing my hair; I looked at your coffin and the flowers, Oh, how I wished this was just a nightmare. I started to speak in such a sad voice, And then, I felt your great strength within me; I spoke of your life so all could rejoice, So, filled with your love that I spoke, so free. Then, I felt the papers go fluttering; And in the name of love, I was speaking. ____________________________ October 24, 2015 Poetry/English Sonnet/For Grandma Copyright Protected, ID 15-720-842-0 All Rights Reserved Written Under Pseudonym. For the contest, In The Name Of Love Sponsor, Shadow Hamilton First Place


Poem Details | by Michael Jordan |
Categories: dedication, devotion, faith, family, hope, husband, inspirational, love, wifegod, me, world, grandmother, god, grandmother, me, together,

Our Grandmother's Blessings

So many trials seem to be filled up with so much fear
So many ask, “Oh Dear Lord, what am I doing here”?

So many questions that I have come to know
If we just plant a seed, with water it will grow

I have a natural green thumb that now is wasting away
Along with a mind that does love to go out and play

Times I still ask, “How did this all came to be”
What was it that my wife was able to see in me?

She says that my heart was the most beautiful around
It still blows me away, for I clearly remember the sound

Her voice was so soft, her tone was so sweet
I was nothing less than pure evil upon two feet

Had been years since anything had took me by surprise
Ice cold is what the rest of the world had seen in my eyes

I looked at her smiled and laughed in my cold convict way
She smiled and said, “Why you want to be mean anyway”

I told her, “I reckon we are all born to just what we are”
She said, “So why are you a dope cook instead of a star”

That question stopped me right there dead in my tracks
I thought, “This girl is a looker but God she is whacked”

Last night her and I sat out underneath the moon
Two very blessed souls swinging in our sliver spoon

Just a little swing we built together out in our back yard
Place to just sit back and rest after a day long and hard

I once again ask her, how in the world could you ever know?
 “My Grandmother was preacher, I could see her in you soul”

Which led me to speak out my truth for I learned to not lie
"My grandmother was also in yours, answering the entire “Why”

Grandmothers we respected and held above all others 
Brought each of us together in the land born of lovers

Two Grandmother Spirits full of pure heavenly delight
Led their grandchildren into the valley born of the light

Now here we sit holding each other, each other high above
Because we share in the blessing of our Grandmothers love


----------------------------------------------------------------
Toni and I had lost our Grandmothers before we had ever met
though I knew of hers because she was a very powerful lady
and a down home speak in tongues Pentecostal Preacher that
had great respect up in these partsAfter all these years we 
confided in each other that we could see our grandmothers in
each others eyesThank you and God Bless, MJ


Poem Details | by Emile Pinet |
Categories: age, emotions, feelings, grandmother, i love you, imagery, love,

Granny

Tears in your eyes reflect pain hidden there
recalling your youth and a world more kind.
And a sadness fills your heart with despair
as memories replay within your mind.

The truth's apparent, endorsed by old age,
so hold my hand and let me calm your fears.
For though life's book approaches the last page
there is no need for worry or sad tears.

I knew you in my youth when just a boy
you entered my life as a friend back then.
And amidst innocence and youthful joy
you helped a boy enter the world of men.

Look deep into my eyes granny and see
that as long as I live, you’ll live in me.


Poem Details | by Robert Lindley |
Categories: appreciation, best friend, blessing, grandmother, love, thanks, wisdom,

Gems Grandmother Gifts From Her Golden Word-Loom

Gems Grandmother Gifts From Her Golden Word-Loom

Gems grandmother gifts from her golden word-loom
Hold those fast horses and keep clean your own room
If you work, be sure to fill your hungry tanks
If you are grateful, you have just me to thank
I wash your dirty laundry and cook your meals
Sell our extra eggs just to pay the high bills
Careful, watch your step, pains are great from deep falls
Color outside, do not mark on my clean walls 
Think hard before you leap, doctors are not cheap
If you are playing for love, best play for keep
If you work real hard, you get money for town
Here we do not pay for you being a clown
We raise our chickens, goats, pigs and corn to eat
Know keeping this place afloat is quite a feat
Now go on, do your chores and we will be fine
Breakfast at six, come too late you do not dine
We do not burn our candles too late at night
Do not anger me, it's not a pretty sight
Enjoy the sun, God placed it there just for you
If you think me too hard, best you get a clue
Now hold your horses, God did not give me wings
I see you happy, my heart races and sings
Stop complaining, today is Sunday and clear
Now wash your hair and clean good behind each ear
No child, not everything I say is funny
What, you think we are rich and made of money
Dear child, listen to granny she tells you true
Even when mad, I love every one of you
So remember well your granny when she dies
Treasure each moment, you know how fast time flies
Now child heed well my wise words when you are grown
You reap no rich harvest if bad seeds are sown!

Robert JLindley3-16-2017

Syllables Per Line: 	
11 11 11 11 11 11 11 11 11 11 11 11 11 11 11 11
11 11 11 11 11 11 11 11 11 11 11 11 11 11 11 11
Total # Syllables: 	352
Total # Words: 	303

Note- Dedicated to my loving, wise and honorable grandmother..
She was made of steel but loved us all dearly..
Reminded us that farm work was hard but would teach us to be responsible , honest and worthy to be respected in this life..


Poem Details | by Nathan Reger |
Categories: grandmother, grandparents, love,

Grandma

Grandma

I miss grandma’s house after school, grandma’s house after church, grandma’s house after a long days workI miss them because they remind me of my grandmaLemonade, cookie jars, jeopardy, aloe plants, banana pudding, ice tea, patsy cline and diet coke etcall have memories that make me think of my Grandma.

Grandma is always giving
Here take this pillow take some food “take what you want.”
She wants you to have it
She just wants you to be happy.

Are you hungry? Let me make you something.
I am not hungry grandmaI say.
Grandma says: Let me make you something anyway.

Straight to the point is her way
Stop chewing your nails stop eating so much chocolate
Your face is breaking out! No girl is going to like that!

She cries when we leave, and cries when we arrive
Tears of joy and sadness she cannot hide.

Three words that define her are
Self-less, supportive, and loving

Grandma is the rock in our family

I want to tell you

We love you!


Poem Details | by CayCay Jennings |
Categories: feelings, grandmother, grief, love,

One Gray Hair

Her wrinkles were joy-flecked twinkled with facial lines brightly smile crunched. Her eye shade vague, but love sprinkled from decades of holding faith bunched. She prayed steady, her praise ready. Her giggle rendered me tickled. Her heart-ways raised me cherish-touched. Loving my Gram much, tears trickled the morning I found her death clutched. Not one gray hair lacked my despair.
March 10, 2018


Poem Details | by Mike Gentile |
Categories: bird, grandmother, inspiration, love,

The Whisper of a Sparrow

As the whisper of a sparrow
     gently graces my side, 
     she touches the earth
 I am as well,  touched
 by my sweet grandmother
     whose love for the little birds
     has inspired me

innocence knows innocence 
     and I can remember her words
as she sprinkled  bread crumbs 
in the grass
     she said,  take care of our little friends
they need us as much as
     we need them

Each time I see the tiny creatures,
     I see my grandmother’s face
and hear her voice
and I know
that she is still inspiring me
to take care of those
     who need us


Poem Details | by Eve Peterson |
Categories: beautiful, cute, grandmother, happiness, happy, joy, love,

Became A Grandma

I became a Grandma today
Which makes me happy in every way
I held you in my arms
Such a sweet feeling in arms
I love you so
And think of you so
As you grow
My heart is happy
Grandma loves you
Always and true


Poem Details | by Al Parry |
Categories: anniversary, baby, baptism, beauty, bereavement, best friend, birthday, boyfriend, bridal shower, brother, caregiving, celebration, child, childhood, farewell, feelings, first love, children, for him, kids, freedom, friendship, funeral, girlfriend, giving, goodbye, graduation, grandchild, granddaughter, grandmother, grandparents, grandson, happiness, happy, health, heartbroken, hope, identity, inspiration, jesus,

Hugs

Teenage Girls clad in the latest fashions,
Do it whenever they meet,
Grown men aren't afraid to show some passion,
When their team's comeback is complete,
They can say hello, they can say goodbye,
And anything inbetween,
If you open your arms and crack a smile,
There is nothing that a hug cannot mean.


Poem Details | by VICTOR BUN |
Categories: angel, anniversary, beautiful, beauty, birthday, black african american, boyfriend, brother, business, caregiving, childhood, christian, christmas, dedication, easter, family, father, flower, friendship, girl, girlfriend, graduation, grandmother, happiness, happy, home, hope, husband, inspirational, life, love, memory, mother, passion, people, pets, relationship, romance, romantic, rose, seasons, social, success, thank you, wedding,

ONCE AGAIN THANK YOU

I was just trying to remember the past
 trying to remember the good people
 and the bad people,
 that i came across on my way,

i want you to know
that you are among the good people
 that left a good trace in my life,

once again i just want to say thank you
for passing through my life,
is so short but is wonderful
i want you here forever.


Poem Details | by Joe Flach |
Categories: familyfamily, grandmother, baseball, family, grandfather, grandmother, life, love, sports, grandchild, grandchild,

Baseball in Heaven

My grandfather and I had a special relationship.

When I was young we lived near his home in Baltimore But, my family moved away from 
Baltimore when I was five and we lived most of my life in another state far away from my 
grandfather Whenever he called, however, I was the one grandchild he always wanted to 
talk to so we could discuss his beloved Baltimore Orioles I was the one grandchild who 
followed sports closely and always remained a true Baltimore sports fan.

Later in life, I learned that my grandfather was actually a gifted baseball player himself when 
he was young In those days, he would explain, professional baseball players did not make 
enough money to support a family so he had to make up his mind to either play baseball or 
get married and raise a family As it turned out, his love for baseball was only surpassed by 
his love for my grandmother and, although he hung on to the newspaper clippings that 
labeled him a “can’t miss professional baseball prospect”, he hung up his cleats and glove, 
married my grandmother and went out to find a “real” job.

But his love for the game survived and year in and year out, he and I discussed the 
intricacies of the game and enjoyed or lamented each baseball season based on the 
successes and/or failures of the Baltimore Orioles As crummy as the Baltimore bums are 
today, I was fortunate enough to experience and share many more successful seasons than 
poor ones during those limited years that I shared life with this amazing man.

I always felt sorry for my grandfather, considering him a victim of poor timing Had he 
been born about 50 years later in life, he would not have had to pick between being a 
baseball player or earning a living – in fact, with his talent, he could have earned a much 
better than average living while enjoying the one thing he loved most in life.

When my grandfather passed away, I was sure that he was joining a heavenly nine to once 
again strap on his spikes and don the leather Without a doubt, they must play baseball in 
heaven And I wait for the day that I sit in the heavenly bleachers and cheer on a young 
grandfather playing this wonderful game with other boys of summer.

(Inspired by, “is there baseball in heaven”, by Constance, A Rambling Poet)


Poem Details | by Perry Campanella |
Categories: community, culture, dad, daughter, devotion, education, family, father daughter, feelings, children, kids, friendship, grandfather, grandmother, grandparents, husband, i love you, inspiration, inspirational, international, joy, marriage, men, mentor, mother daughter, niece, parents, poems, relationship, spiritual, teacher, teen, teenage, thank you, today, truth, voice, wisdom, world, youth,

Your My Dear Friend

We have been together
treasured joy now for many years
we trust each other with our
emotions, with affection, tears,

Any day when you are sick or hurting
I feel your pain - significant other,
when eighter-one needs attention
we help one another...

These mutual friendly feelings
for assistance, approval, support
form our tight bonds,
usually never broken

Sharing visions, time together
we respect each other,
regardless of shortcomings
I know you, "I love you anyway"


Poem Details | by Sabrina Niday Hansel |
Categories: cancer, courage, dedication, family, farewell, god, goodbye, grandmother, heart, heaven, i love you, inspiration, love, mom, mother, mother daughter, mothers day, niece, poems, sister, son, strength,

We Are There With You

You do not stand alone in your Battle
Your battle is our Battle
We may not be there in body
But we are there with you in Spirit

We are there in every beat of your Heart
In every whisper of the wind
In every thought and every touch
Every breath and every sound
We are there with you

You are wrapped in an Endless chain of Love
In every link we each send you a part of us
We send you some of our Strength
Some of our will to Fight
Some of our Courage
The most important of them all
We send you all of our Love

If you feel you need more
Just give that Endless chain a little tug
And we'll be there
Tug til you need us no more
Then we'll know you've gone Home
 

______________________________________________________________
5/09/2014 Dedicated to my Aunt Nini, Wilma Thomas Gamble for Mother's DaySadly she lost her Battle w/ Stage 4 Pancreatic Cancer on 5/30/2014.


Poem Details | by Kim Merryman |
Categories: granddaughter, grandmother, love,

A Grandmother's Love - Anacreontic 1

Eyes wide and innocent, blue with sparkles of mischief shining through. I see you, angel girl. You see me and run, straight into my arms. You shout my name, "Grandma! Grandma!", as I scoop you up. If I could, I would give you the world. A sloppy kiss on my cheek and a hug. "Love you, Grandma!" "Love you, too, baby!" Off you run to explore your world with curiosity and wonder. I am putty in your hands.
11/9/15 For Edward Ebbs Anacreontic Verse 1 contest


Poem Details | by Rhonda Johnson-Saunders |
Categories: family, granddaughter, grandmother, love, spiritual, wisdom,

Grandma's Gift


I wake to the sounds of laughter and lively music (jazz, I think) flowing free from the empty tenement down the hallThe smooth harmonies and upbeat tempos expand to fill every corner within meIt’s an early Saturday morning in spring and warm enough to leave my sweater hanging in the closetDaddy reads the newspaper headlines, a ring of cigar smoke encircling his bald spotMy younger siblings are spread out in front of a black and white TV screen watching Felix the Cat, and I stand at the kitchen sink rinsing the breakfast dishes, still listeningI am almost twelveAs the oldest, I’m expected to help Mama in the kitchenMy blue eyes usually ride the sunbeams while I washI also greet the cloud sculptures, carved from my imagination, as they blow byToday, the kitchen curtains are drawn, and only soft, morning light filters throughI tap my feet and continue to wash, losing track of time while staring at the panels of tiny yellow flowers

When Grandma floats into the kitchen, vibrant and carefree like a butterfly, I feel her thereShe asks me where my head’s been, knowing the answer but choosing to snap me back into the reality of dirty dishesBefore I can speak, she picks up a sponge and starts washingShe’s never far away when I need herI am, what she calls, the keeper of her gift - the only one to receive her sixth senseMy mama calls me foolish for believingShe says there’s no place on this earth for a girl with a head full of impractical dreams and hopeless plansShe wants me to grow up proper and civilized, but Grandma knows meShe understands that my mind and feet are always on the move – twirling, skipping, and dancing to my heart’s latest songGrandma encourages me with her love and acceptanceWe feel the same spirits on the wind, we listen to the guiding whispers of our ancestors, and we know the colors and music of our souls 

As I finish washing the last dish, Grandma starts to dryI look down to see her toes tapping to the same rhythm as mineI ask her if she hears the music, too, already knowingShe doesn’t answer; she just smiles lovingly with her wise eyesShe never complicates life’s truths with unnecessary explanationsShe speaks to my soul without a word from her lipsIf I live to be ninety-nine, I’ll never stop believing.


I brush my granddaughter’s hair
and look into her blue eyes
like mine - full of deep secrets,
she’s ready to share.



*Prose ending with a dodoitsu 
By Rhonda Johnson-Saunders, 11/21/15
for Scott's Haibun Free-Style Contest



  


Poem Details | by Mac McGovern |
Categories: adventure, bereavement, dad, daughter, death, devotion, emotions, eulogy, faith, family, father, freedom, funeral, goodbye, grandchild, granddaughter, grandfather, grandmother, history, how i feel, i love you, life, men, mentor, miss you, missing you, mom, mother, obituary, old, patriotic, peace, people, sea, son, sorrow, spiritual, travel, veterans day, war,

The Old Salt

The Old Salt was a special man who came along in a time
when he was needed most.

A time that is now gone forever.
When men believed and sacrificed, when hero’s walked the earth in mass.

When patriotism was not just a word
but,
by what men lived and judged the worth of each, 
a man who lived a life most of us cannot comprehend

An era now gone as this warriors tour of duty ends at this station, 
and begins anew in the heavenly fleet

Sail on Sailor into your unaccompanied tour,
we salute you.

What greater honor, that when a man moves forward, 
he leaves behind in each of us the best of what he was

A defender, protector, supporter, victor, a warrior, 
the last of the breed from an era when ships were made of wood
and men were made of steel.

The Old Salt has reported for duty that takes him away from us for now

Those of us who remain behind,
remember, and will continue to remember, 
because he now resides forever in our hearts.

As I look up at night, I envision The Old Salt,
a beret draped just above the eye, 
as he draws upon his pipe, 
quietly he waits.
The guardian of heaven’s gate.



Poem Details | by Laura Breidenthal |
Categories: beautiful, beauty, candy, care, childhood, chocolate, clothes, emotions, feelings, friendship, giving, grandchild, grandmother, grandparents, happiness, happy, heart, hope, i love you, inspiration, inspirational, love, niece, peace, uplifting,

Love Never Fades

There's a little history to this particular poemI know I wrote it when I was 11 or 12 years oldI wrote it for my Grandma Dorabel, who is today 90 years oldI also wrote it for my uncle John who had been taking care of her at the time; I didn't want to leave him out so I put on the letter: For Grandma Dee and Uncle John! I wrote this short little poem along with a drawing of a cat and some flowersHowever, I actually never sent the picture to her! My parents and I must have forgotten to send! To me that was unacceptable! I thought to myself today when I found the picture, I must send it now! The picture is now on its way to her, so I am happy she will at last receive it

---------------------------- You can send me a bouquet of flowers, You can order me a box of chocolates, You can buy me a fancy outfit, But flowers don't last, Chocolates eventually disappear, Outfits get out of style, Yet Love never fades, And it's the most precious gift of all


Poem Details | by Faye Gibson |
Categories: fun, grandchild, grandmother, love, , cute,

Super Grandma Girl

Super grandma girl, in her long green cape,
took a quick ride on a golden grape;
she slipped, greased lightning like, over the floor,
gunned her girl motor and flew out the door.
A piercing scream out on the front lawn
a grandchild in trouble???? No time for a yawn.
Like all super heroes she was there in a flash,
with a dash and a clash and a ladylike smash.
Her darling was bloodied,
pink ruffled dress muddied,
(the one she had just worn to church).
She had taken a lurch and fell from her perch
way up high in the old apple tree,
a place she was not meant to be.
Only grannie superheroes can give healing kisses
to cute little, sweet little, bad little misses,
but that is exactly what grandma's will do--
grab you up quick with loud hullabaloos,
and before you know it, you're better! It's true!
Just because super grandma really loves you.
But--one thing all grand kids need to remember:
grandma will love you the year through--to December!
You don't have to be bad and fall from a tree
to get super kisses from super old me.

Faye Lanham Gibson
Copyright, August 3, 2014


Poem Details | by Spenser Jones |
Categories: introspection, life, love, slam, me, grandmother, home, home, love, me, time, together,

A PART OF SOMETHING

God created hands for building thingsSometimes before you build something, you must first destroy something else.

Wildfires are never supposed to be put outTheir sole purpose is to burn the entire forest to the ground, transform living things to fertilizer, making room and preparing the soil for new growth.
It is almost paradoxical, 
that there must be death before birth

My hands have stared the grim reaper’s reflection inside the pool of my best friends bloodAn old student I used to tutor told me that I am the best brother she could have asked for
She said she will always love me
This was after I burned every bridge that traversed the gaps between us
Stared at her from across her desk
Told her that she will never be my sisterThat our bloodlines will never match.
Our gene pools are just strangers that made the same wrong turn.
I spent so much time trying to find my way back that I never realized I was home in being lost I found something comfortable, without expectationsI only corrected myself after she spoke,
because I heard something familiar in her voice.
She sounded like family.

I have the scarred and wrinkled hands of a senior citizen
I’m only 22 years old
I once got my palm read
This gypsy woman told me that my lifeline should have been cut short when I hit 17.
That was a year ago.
What do gypsies know anyway
I have defied the odds my entire life.
Been broke down and built back up too many times to count
My fingernails chewed raw to the cuticle out of anxiety
I enjoy the taste of my own pain
Sometimes I use my own hands to destroy myself just to see who my real friends are who will build me back up when I can’t do it alone

My hands have a desire to learn how to cook, but I’m not that great.
So when I am alone,
I tend to be hungry, not just for food though.
I starve for someone to talk to
It never satiates, because it’s not you.
I know what it tastes like to completely give myself to someone.
My biggest fear is being abandoned.
When I look into your eyes, I am not afraid.
I need to cook you up a feast of myself, then feed it to you every day for the rest of our lives
Please tell me what I really taste like,
Be honest.

Years after my grandfather passed away, my grandmother moved into my aunt’s house.
Since I was 5, every time I speak to her she asks me:
“Spenser, did you thank God for waking you up today?”
I think to myself, I never did tell my eyes to open themselvesIt just happened.
So I don’t know how to respond to her correctly.
I tell her that I love her, that I am writing a lot.
She tells me that she puts her hands together for me every night
Prays that I will get the job I want
I guess some prayers do get answered.
Sometimes two hands in the right position, matched with a conversation with God,
Can change things.
I even accidentally call that place home sometimes.

My dream is that my hands evolve into wolves, become part of a pack and work together with other hands to make a difference
Some days they will be the alpha male.
Full of confidence, at the head of the pack
Other days I need someone to show me the right way to go
Because if I’ve learned anything
It’s that I am not always right
I can not always be in control of everything
The only thing I have ever really wanted is to know
That my hands were truly
A part of something.


Poem Details | by sakshi sitoot |
Categories: granddaughter, grandfather, grandmother, grandparents, i love you, love,

My Grand Parents

When we are with you, we always have fun, You make us feel we're your special ones! If we really need a hug or two, we know that we can always depend on you. Giving hugs is what grandparents do best, And you do it better than all the rest! Everything that my grandma does is something special made with love. She take time to add the extra touch that says, "I love you very much." She fixes hurts with a kiss and smile and tell good stories grandma-style. It's warm and cozy on her lap for secret telling or a nap. At 1 in the afternoon,It is always grandpa's call he asks"this app...how to install??" My Grandpa is a wonderful man, Always believed in me, he knew that I can Wisdom of life, openly shared, Comforted me, when I was scared Here is a secret, and it is true- Grandma & Grandpa, my hearts belongs to you!


Poem Details | by Connie Gildersleeve |
Categories: grandmother, love, nostalgia, me, pride,

Grandma's Pearls

Grandma passed along her string of pearls to me.
I knew I've been entrusted with a special gift from her.
Nothing but pride crossed my mind that day.

Taking her pearls from its box, I still feel her love,
Whether it was tender or tough,
It was done with the intent
On making me feel pride within myself.

Grandma cherished her pearls for most of her life.
This was her 'Pearl of Wisdom' she passed down to me,
"Pearls are classy enough for a fancy affair
Or just a simple dinner out.
Diamonds are a girl's best friend,
But don't get between me and my pearls.
The attachment is for life, it's beauty knows no age."
Every time I put on her string of pearls, I still giggle.


03/12/2013


Poem Details | by Pamela Davison |
Categories: caregiving, faith, imagination, love, mystery, native american, philosophy, longing, moon,

Grandmother Moon

Grandmother Moon cherishes me, 
kisses my forehead with her light
She reigns supreme over her kingdom, 
smiling down upon this humble spirit

I whisper to her of my dreams, hopes 
prevailing in spite of the odds
A tear forms in the corner of my eye 
as I challenge her to answer my prayers

I extend my hand, longing to touch her, 
to soak up her ancient wisdom and beauty
I can feel her gentle smile, she embraces me, 
bringing me comfort, her radiance guiding

She has been witness to the cruelties 
of man, more than I could ever imagine
Broken dreams scattered into the night 
her children gather around her, wink at me

Nissa, Nissa, I cry out to herIs all lost? 
Is there no more hope for my people? 
A voice softly answers in my mind, 
there is always a glimmer of hope

Grandmother Moon watches over me, 
ruling the tides of my heart, my spirit
She is listening to me, tasting my tears, 
caressing the delicate tendrils of my soul.